


It's a long way home, Senior Agent 000

by Interpolbarrel (WitchGayAtelier)



Series: Professors Park [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Murder, Brutal Murder, Child Death, Child Loss, Crime Scene Investigations, Crime Scenes, Difficult to do when you're secret agents, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Roller Coaster, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm trying my best to tag this, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Looker is so done, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Nanu is a Forensic Scientist, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Serial Killer, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepiness, Sleepy Cuddles, Social Anxiety, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vomiting, and your kid is a faller, they try to dad, they're doing their best, workaholics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17994197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchGayAtelier/pseuds/Interpolbarrel
Summary: 000 lived a fast-paced life wether he wanted to or not, but the last things he expected to happen before an early retirement ended up a reality. 836 can't help feeling shut out and left behind by the person he care's about most. Chasing a serial killer, figuring out their feelings towards each other and dealing with personal matters make for a rather difficult to deal with Senior Agent duo. The chaotic adventure of Nanu and Lookers last mission together.





	1. Good Morning, Sector 0 Chief 007

…[Oct 22nd, 1996, 03:05CKT]...

 

Early mornings were best spent reviewing missions with a cup of coffee before they’re handed out to the Agents they’re assigned to. Especially if they involve Senior Agents. More specifically and carefully if those Senior Agents are 000 and 836. 

 

Chief 007 lifted his thermos to his lips as he looked over the casefile, lost in thought. ‘Zeros will be here at 5, so I got two hours to figure out how that'll go down with Agent Double-01 as Intel, then two and a half hours to handle his reaction before Agent 836 arrives. Let’s hope he’s having a good day.’ He took a long sip before opening the files.

  
  


IPD Special Ops Clearance Information Required

Please Enter your Agent ID and Password

[Agent ID: 007Cs01948]

[Password: *************]

 

Password Accepted

Please Touch the Print Reader

.

Processing Fingerprint...

.

Welcome, Sector 0 Chief 007

Proceed

.

.

.

Casefile Selected

Opening file and loading all Attachments...

  
  


Sector 0 Special Ops IPDCase #937: Lady Wine

Received: Oct. 21st 1996, 23:50CKT

Status: Open[Opened: Oct. 22nd 1996, 03:08CKT]

            Clearance: 

                        Priority Clearance: 007, S0 Chief; 001, S. Agent

                        Secondary Clearance: 000, S. Agent; 836, S. Agent

 

Agents:

            Intel: 001, S. Agent

            Lead: 000, S. Agent(See Profile for more)

            S.A.: 836, S. Agent(See Profile for more)

Classification: Purple Directive, Serial Killer(SK)

Suspect: Zen Scots-Pine(22), Armed, Unstable(See Profile for more)

Proceedings: Detain by any plausible means. remain invisible to the public.

            Chief Notes: IPD Proceedings outweigh Regional if necessary. Regional still advised for the best possible outcome.

 

Region: Kalos

Primary Language(s): Kalosian, Galar-Kalosian

            Regional Proceedings: Work with local authorities for leads and suspect info only, bi-daily reports expected, do not disturb the peace, remain Invisible to the public.

 

Summary: Local Kalosian Authorities turned over the case after the 37th homicide. Mirrors are shattered in each house, the victim is moved to their basement and a mirror shard is used to murder the victims. Afterwards, gas is released in the homes before being lit on fire. 14 Local KPD Officers killed.

  
  
  


Suspect Zen Scots-Pine Files Selected

.

Opening Suspect Zen Scots-Pine Files…

  
  


IPDCase #937: Suspect Profile

Name: Zen Scots-Pine

Alias: Lady Wine

Age: 22

Status: Active

Killer Class: Serial Killer(SK)

Weapon(s): Golok 44(Reported use on Local PD); Mirror Shards(Murder Weapon)

            Chief Note: Violent against PD. Proceed with caution.

Civilians Killed: 37

Officers Killed: 14

Target Victims: Elderly Hoarder Moms in their 50’s-60’s.

Motive: Abused by a Hoarder Narc. Mom

            Chief Note: Koselian.

Suspect Zen Scot-Pine Files Closed

.

Senior Agent 000 Files Selected

.

Opening Senior Agent 000 Files…

 

Sector 0 Senior IPD Agent, 000:

Status: Active(Joined Jan. 17 1961)

Class: Lead Forensic Scientist; Interrogator

Weapon(s): Barettoya 29; 5 pocket knives(2 on ankles, 1 on the inner thigh, 1 sewn into shirt sleeve(left), 1 sewn into shirt collar); Standard IPD belt Issue Kantonian Bolt Knife; Amulet Coin Lazer

Items: Sector 0 IPD Issue Forensic kit; Motor Repair Tool kit; Sector 0 IPD Issue Kalosian Map; 3 Standard Issue handcuffs; 20 Sector 0 IPD Issue handcuffs; Weapon cleaning kit; Fingerprint kit; Evidence kit; Wingnut and Bolt; Stress squishy

            Chief Note: Hardly uses weapons. Extra training may be required.

 

Attributes: Quick Wit; Forensics; Interrogation; Identification; Forensics; Street Smart; Seduction; Motor Repair

Liabilities: Short Temper; Significantly low pain tolerance; Anxiety; Poor Communicator; Impulsive

            Chief Note: Will yell or become completely silent when emotional; Nausea and vomiting when anxious. Work with senior agent 000 if any signs of these come into play by trying to talk it out first, but if space is needed, grant. it. Patience is key. Works best with 836.

 

Pokemon: (1)

Name: Cantaloupe

Species: Persian A.

Region Caught: Alola(Closed)

Date Caught: Dec. 6th 1953

Ball: Ultra

 

[Sector 0 Chief 007 Clearance]

Personal Information: 

Name: Nanu Lui Banks

Age: 53

Birthday: Dec. 6th 1942

Regionality: Alolan

Language: Old Alolan; Galar-Kalosian

Blood Type: O+

Relatives: A. Brother(45); A. Niece(2)(God-Child); F. Sister(57); (Unlisted)(59); (Unlisted)(72); F. Mother(78); (Unlisted)(79)(Unlisted); (Classified)(19)(Deceased)

Romantic Interest: S. Agent 836(47)

 

Senior Agent 000 Files Closed

.

Senior Agent 836 Files Selected

.

Senior Agent 836 Files Opening…

 

Sector 0 Senior IPD Agent, 836:

Status: Active(Joined Jul. 9 1969)

Class: Lead Bomb handler; Disguise Artist; Negotiator

Weapons: Barettoya U79; Mini tranq. Gun; 2 pocket knives(1 sewn into pants, 1 sewn into shirt sleeve(right)); Standard IPD belt Issue Galarish Bell knife(2); Sector 0 IPD Issue Multitool; Glitter

Items: Sector 0 IPD Issue Medical kit; Sector 0 IPD Issue mini Medical book; Sewing kit; Sector 0 IPD Issue Disguise kit; Evidence kit; 3 Standard Issue handcuffs; Weapon cleaning kit; Glitter Globe; Kendama

 

Attributes: Quick Foot; Negotiation; Trilingual; Medical efficiency; Bomb Construction/Deconstruction/Diffusing; Disguise

Liabilities: Intrusive; Anxiety; Impulsive; Choker

            Chief Note: Alternatively known as 100KR or Looker. Fidgets/Hyperventilates when anxious. Keep a sincerely close eye on him if he’s in possession of glitter. Works best with 000.

 

Pokemon: (1)

Name: Bebe

Species: Croagunk

Region Caught: Sinnoh(Closed)

Date Caught: Jun. 11th 1959

Ball: Ultra(Glitter stickers)

 

[Sector 0 Chief 007 Clearance]

Personal Information: 

Name: David Morozovich Svendson

Age: 47

Birthday: Jun. 11th 1949

Regionality: Sinnohan

Language: Sinnohan; Kalosian; Galar-Kalosian

Blood Type: B-

Relatives: None

Romantic Interest: S. Agent 000(53)

  
  


…[Oct. 22nd, 1996, 04:49CKT]...

 

Quietly reviewing files didn’t last as long as the Chief hoped. 000 kicked the door to HQ open, hair in disarray, drenched from the rain, eyes sunken from exhaustion and stress and a fair amount of fresh minor injuries. He had the look Chief 007 knew meant trouble.

Setting down his mug, the Chief took note of the Senior Agent making his way to his office with paperwork.

 

Printing Semi-Clearance Files…

.

Printed

.

Logging out and Shutting down

Goodbye, Sector 0 Chief 007

  
  


‘Don’t tell me those are retirement request forms.’ His computer shut off just in time for Agent 000 to barge in as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixated on his subordinate to sense his mood. It was less than desired. Whatever riled 000 up was going to be a continuous problem for a long while. The Chief's suspicions only confirmed when the dreaded papers were smacked against his desk, already filled out in 000s Torchic scratch. A discussion about retirement rang in the Chief's memory. ‘Shit..’

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“I remember the conversation we had two years ago when your niece was born. I’ll get you the confirmation forms and update your files after your briefing. This’ll be your last mission.” Chief 007 pulled the printed documents from the basket, placing them in a folder and handing them to 000. “For now, go to your office and review the files.”

 

Once Agent 000 left, Chief 007 sighed and rubbed his face. “This is going to be hell from start to finish..”


	2. Office Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! This chapter took a lot longer than anticipated(as they do) for a multitude of reasons, but fear not! I'm still working on it! ;3;

…[Oct. 21st, 1996, 22:22CKT]...

 

“What a shit night. Damn rain ain’t lettin’ up for nothin’.” Senior Agent 000s grumbled as he flung the curtains shut. “Thought the downpour would help shrug off this feelin’ and let me sleep. Instead, its made it worse.” 000s was no psychic type, but there was trouble in the air and 000s didn’t like it. It didn’t feel immediate, but it felt deep, dangerous and too close to home for comfort. A distraction was necessary at this point and crime dramas were just the thing.

 

Just as he was relaxed enough to doze off, panic struck his heart at the sound of a glittery ringtone. ‘He’s not supposed to be calling me.’

 

The Senior Agent answered the phone, a conversation entirely in Old Alolan between him and a Nurse taking up most of the night until early morning. 000s got no sleep, but he gave a shaking sigh of relief before pulling himself out of his chair. 

 

‘It worked, for now, but I doubt he’ll make it through…. Whatever it’s called, as they say. Why’d they even need my approval?..’

 

A glance at the time told him that sleep was out of the question if he wanted to be awake for work. He stood and took off his shirt as he walked to the bathroom, releasing his Persian from its ball. “You’re gonna fuckin’ hate me, but it’s bath-time Cantaloupe.” 

 

Of course, he was right in that assumption. She clawed the shit out of his back trying to hold onto him so she wouldn’t touch the water. Since it was a shower instead of a bath, there was no escape for her and she ended up a soaking wet mess of a cat-type. He let her go, having to shower before work himself and figured she’d dry herself off.

 

The initial idea was to get rid of the aching and when that failed miserably, he settled for some heat pads he could stick to himself. Looking in the mirror, the old scars along his body made him question his job choice. Even still, as he looked into his own eyes in the mirror, he failed to shake the thought that Interpol was the right path for him. Back when he initially joined, that is. A soft ember still glistened, but it was aging like he was, no longer the blazing flame that it once was. 

  
  
  


…[Oct. 22nd, 1996, 02:19CKT]...

 

000s quickly grabbed a shirt from his drawers, pulling it on over his frame and heating pads. He looked back at the mirror, shifting his shoulders to slide on his jacket, tucked his pants into his boots and grabbed his gear. Persian retreated into her ball once she saw the rain, not that 000s blamed her. Hopping on his motorbike, he lit a cigarette to get at least one drag in before starting it up and speeding out of his apartment garage. Red eyes widened behind dark sunglasses when an explosion burst from his vehicle while approaching a stoplight, not far from his usual breakfast stop. 

 

Black smoke erupted from the bike, the vehicle swerving. 000s grasped the clutch, grunting harshly when his rear brake failed. His motorcycle slid sideways, a short gasp in his throat as he launched himself. Tumbling, he made impact with the wet asphalt and rolled. Raising his head so he could see and move from the road, he tensed. The agents bike flipped towards him, pieces flying off. He prayed to Bulu and froze. 

 

When 000s opened his eyes again, his heartbeat in his ears overwhelmed him. Panting from panic and adrenaline, he took a moment to regain his vision, only moving when a truck started honking at him. A man around his age in an apron came racing after him by the time he had stumbled to his feet, grabbing his arm and helping him to the sidewalk with a yelp from the agent. The man took some convincing but eventually believed 000 when he insisted he was fine after the crash, leaving him to pick up his motorbike to get it fixed. He has no idea how though, considering he was grimacing with every movement.

 

He whimpered, poking part of his ear and cheek that had road rash and whincing, eventually just yanking his hand away. The rain stung. ‘When Kr finds out, he’s going to nag my other ear off.’

  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 22nd, 1996, 04:40CKT]... 

 

000s cleared his throat, scratching at the bandage on his cheek while beginning to munch on a breakfast sandwich despite the rain sogging it up. He shuffled down the street with a slight limp in his step, grunting when he had to climb the stairs towards the door. Kicking it open, he grumbled, making his way to the paper room with a worsened limp. Immediate regret washed over him from kicking open the door. He sniffled, trying not to let a tear fall from his eyes.

 

The door slammed open, “Hey, Ninety’s. Print me some retirement forms.”

 

“Holy shit- Zeros, yo-“

 

000s cut the desked agent off, “I’m aware I look like trash! Shut the fuck up and print the damn documents!”

 

“Alright, shit. The hell do you need retirement papers for anyways? Thought you were going to die in Interpol instead of old age, been here so damn long.” 90F90 flinched, half-glaring while printing them. 000s snatched them out of his co-workers hands as soon as they were done.

 

“None of your fuckin’ business.” He snapped.

 

The older agent went to his office, fumbled with pens until he found one that worked and filled out the form. Looking it over, he dismissed his shit handwriting, just happy to have it filled out correctly on the first go. He marched over to the chief's office, barging in without a care and plopped into a seat, slamming his retirement request forms on the desk.

 

‘We need to talk.”

  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 22nd, 1996, 06:00CKT]...

 

“EAT MY ENTIRE ASS!”

 

Chief 007 pleaded, “Zeros, please, calm down!” 

 

A fist swung at another agent, 007 grabbing the arm and pulling agent 000s back. He quickly wrapped the tiny Alolan in a hold from behind, one arm under 000s’ armpit and the other around his torso. For someone more well built, Chief 007 was having a hard time keeping his most frail Senior Agent from getting loose. 

 

The Senior Agent he was trying to attack flinched, stepping back with his hands up.

 

“Look, Zeros, I’m sorry! I was under order to lay low until the Department Council HQ could figure out how to cover me.”

 

“How does that make any fuckin’ sense?!” 

 

Chief 007 pipped in, bringing 000s to his knees and restrengthening his hold. “You weren’t supposed to be on the ship, Zeros! Let alone driving it!”

 

“Then explain why the fuck it took the Department Council so long to figure out how to cover for you?! They’d never take 26 years!”

 

Admittedly, Chief 007 wanted answers to that too. He looked up at the other agent, curious. “Yes, why did they take that long, Double-01?”

 

“Why does it matter?! It just did!”

 

“That doesn’t make any damn sense!”

 

This spiraled into a long yelling match between all three men, until 000s’ chest hitched in his throat and he went silent. He was more pale than usual, trembling and taking short gulps and breaths, looking around frantically. Like a doting father, Chief 007 noticed almost immediately.

 

“Zeros, are you-“

 

Before the Chief could finish his question, 000s was out the door.

 

“Honestly, Kid shoulda grown outta his anxiety by now. That’s why I had him as  _ my _ assistant Agent. To get him used to  _ real _ life!“

 

“That’s why  _ I _ separated him from you after I became Chief of Sector 0!”

 

“Excuse me?!”

 

“Anxiety is not something that can be easily overcome, Elijah. It certainly isn’t something that can be overcome by forcing him into Anxiety inducing situations without the proper tools to help him. You know that.”

 

“I also know that those tools won’t be available in most real life situations-“

 

“Your idea of real life is skewed dramatically by your own upbringing. Interpol may be our daily life, but it’s not “real life”. It’s not the standard!”

 

“And yet you still let him join Interpol.”

 

“After I made absolutely certain that it was what he truly wanted. Joining Interpol was a seed you planted, by the way. Every time I let you visit, you’d push and push for him to join. “It’d be fun!” and “You’ll start under my watch!”...”

 

The Chief sighed heavily, grabbing the bridge of his nose and sighing heavily before he continued.

 

“You have no idea just how much he looked up to you. How cool he thought you were, even as a young adult. He joined because he wanted to be like you and you dressed up Interpol as a fun job, never once warning him how taxing it can be!”

 

007 whirled around, his voice raised. Shocked from the sudden rage in his Chief’s eyes, as well as the natural instinct to dodge away from sudden movement, 001, Elijah, jumped backwards, tripping from the speed and tumbling onto his ass. After a moment, 001 tried to defend himself again.

 

“And with this knowledge, you still let him join!-“

 

“He was an adult, Elijah! He would have done so without my blessing regardless, so stop trying to revert blame onto me! I do my part trying to protect him! My wife and I warned him of all the dangers, made sure this was what he wanted, that this was the path he felt was right for him! I actively tried and put him on cases I knew would be the least taxing! The least dangerous! I have put in the effort to make sure my-.... Senior Agent Zeros… is as healthy as he possibly can be by the time he retires. You glorified the International Police and pressured him. You mentally and emotionally abused him when he was a Trainee. You left him to suffer in the freezing waters of Sinnoh. He has every right to be angry with you, to be anxious, to be wary. If anyone needs a reality check, it’s you.”

 

“...Like you’re a perfect role-model, Chief..”

 

“I’m.. not…. but I’m proud as shit to say I’m a better one than you.”

 

001 sat there for a moment, Chief 007 taking a seat in his swivel behind his desk, waving the hand he had used to put 001 in his place.

 

“Dismissed, Double-01. Your job is Intel. Go get it.”

  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 22nd, 1996, 07:39CKT]...

 

Chief 007 stood in front of a crowd of Agents; some newbies on their first shadow mission, some starting to lead missions, some close to retirement and then some that should have retired a long time ago. He spotted Senior Agents 000s and 836 in the back, 836 more worried about searching for clues right away than paying attention to briefings while 000s poured over some files he didn’t recognize instead of sleeping. Typical of Senior Agent 836, Atypical for Senior Agent 000s.

 

“Case Number 937. Lady Wine.”

 

The Chief had to pause as many of the Agents tensed greatly, quickly snapping to grant their attention to their head of Sector 0. Of course, this seemed to exempt the two Senior Agents in the room actually on the case.

 

With a sigh, 007 continued. “Senior Agents Triple Zeros and Eight-36-“

 

The other Agents groaned, jealous glares being turned to the two. 007 Was thankful neither agent ever payed attention during briefings for this reason. He raised a brow, knowing they’d change their minds once they knew who else was joining them.

 

“Will be accompanied by Senior Agent Double-01 as Intel.“

 

They all fell silent and paled. “Now. We have our three best Agents on the case, but if I call for it, we may need all hands on deck or at the least, a switch-out. I expect everyone to be on high alert. Lady Wine is a known Cop Killer. Keep an eye on your equipment and try to stay with your partner at all costs. Times like these when we really need to watch each others backs. Dismissed.”

 

Senior Agent 000s twitched when he heard the Chief dismiss everyone, not surprised that that was all he heard to begin with. He rose and limped to his office, mulling over the files again and again, making sure he missed nothing. 90F90 passed him the retirement acceptance form while he shuffled to solitude along with his updated agent file, semi-clearance, of course. He glossed over it, making sure everything was in place for when he went home.

 

“If this case lasts longer than six months, I better get one hefty farewell check.”

 

“Farewell Check?”

 

000s snapped his head up to see his partner in the do or to his office, hanging on the handle. 000s quickly recognized the concerned expression on the other mans face, the detective observation in his dravite eyes enough to cause unease. He knew, and if he didn’t know now, he would. 000s tried not to nervously scratch at the patch on his cheek.

 

‘Shit…’

 

“Nothin’, don’t worry about it. I’m busy, though, so..” 000s murmured tiredly with a lazy wave of his hand, sitting down in his chair and sorting through his desk to bide his time.

 

“A-Ah, yes, of course. My apologies!” 

 

He didn’t raise his head until he heard the click of the closing door and nothing but the ticking of his clock. A hand absentmindedly reached to scratch the back of his neck while the other put his files down finally, resting on them in preparation. A yawn escaped his lips, his lids drooping and shoulders slumped.

 

“I’ll let him do his investigation... I need a nap..”

 

Resting his head on his forearm, the Senior Agent’s eyes closed on their own from their weight, sleep taking over his foggy mind.

  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 22nd, 1996, 09:12CKT]...

 

The sudden bang of his office door slamming open jostled him awake in a near instant, leaving no room for him to register his own movements. His head throbbed violently when he lifted it, ears ringing, nearly flinging himself out of his chair. Had it not been for his partner grabbing his shoulder to force him to look at the retirement acceptance forms on his desk, he was sure he’d hit the floor. 

 

“You are retiring?!”

 

Sleepy, 000s gave a look to confirm he had just woken up. His eyes squinty, a sad, sleepy pout, murmur of confusion and all. 

 

“Haaaah?”

 

836’s cheeks turned a soft rose color at his partners expression, disgruntled and looking towards the papers. He swiped the document from under 000s, pointing to them like an angry parent pointing to failing grades on their dumb-playing child’s report card. 000’s couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion his intelligence had just been questioned.

 

000s grumble-whined and threw his head back, accidentally revealing the patched up wound on his cheek on top of straining his neck. He flinched and whimpering in pain as he shot up from his chair, quickly grabbing the back of his neck while looker gasped. He mentally prepared for his partner to interrogate him while he began his wobbly trek to the kitchen for an icepack, ruby eyes watering at the corners. 000s grit his teeth to keep from sobbing the entire way.

 

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

 

“It was just a wreck.”

 

Just a wreck was a slight understatement, given his limp, bandaged ear and patched up cheek, but it could have been worse. Far worse. 000s was also what 001 would call a wuss. His tolerance for pain was deep in the negatives. Investing in a helmet was probably a good idea, though it wouldn’t stop much in the pain area. The exasperation he could sense from his partner when he briefly failed to hear footsteps behind him showed 836 definitely agreed. 

 

Going into the stations kitchen, he grabbed an icepack from the freezer, letting it rest on his neck. If he weren’t used to 836’s verbal expressions, he would have jumped when he heard 836’s voice hit a new note from the hallway.

 

“Just. A wrECK?!” 

 

The stomping he heard reminded 000s of a stamped, turning to see his partner almost as animated as a cartoon as he began frantically fretting over him. Most of it he didn’t understand since it was all in Sinnohan. At least it changed the subject from his eventual retirement. That was a conversation he still hadn’t enough sleep to prepare for. 

 

000s thought for a moment, taking in the ridiculousness of his longtime partner and crush. He snorted in amusement at him. Then the grumbles of an anxious stomach told him to start walking. The crimson eyed Senior Agents pout mixed with a grimace, hobbling back to his desk.

 

“Do not tell me that you are sick, as well, Agent Zeros!”

 

“Speakin’ Galar-Kalosian now, are we?” 000 half-heartedly teased.

 

He smirked he heard an audible snort of displeasure. In actuality, is was a snort of embarrassment disguised as displeasure. 

 

“I hate how you tease me so.”

 

A lie. 836 didn’t mind it at all. As long as it was 000, he would take it the teasing. He never thought it genuine. He tilted his head though, when he noticed 000 slow and pause by his door.

 

“... Want me to stop?”

 

836 froze. It was a question so out of the blue until he got a look at 000s posture. Slumped shoulders, head down, not unusual but something was off. He sputtered, unsure how to answer at first.

 

“W.. H-.. Why do you ask such a strange question out of the blue like that??? If I actually had a problem with it, I would have made arrangements to fix it long ago! Do not be so ridiculous!”

 

Both agents stayed still for what felt like hours, both red in the face without the other knowing. 836 yearned to wrap his arms around 000 to comfort him, sensing the distraught in his partner, but knew better. It made his chest ache more than normal. 000 silently wished he knew how to react to affection properly, actually wanting 836’s warm arms around him so he could slump tiredly into them. Just the thought made his heart beat millions of miles a minute, but his stomach rolled and protested.

 

To both their relief, and dismay, Senior Agent 001 came by with new Intel.

 

“Hey. Eight-36. New Intel. Got Lady Wine’s frequent overnight stays, more of her past if that’s even relevant… bunch of bullshit. Have fun sortin’ through it, Rookie.”

 

836 snorted and snipped at 001, “I am not a Rookie and I will not tolerate such disrespect.” 

 

“Oh yeah? Why do ya put up with him, then?”

 

001 nodded towards 000s office, the blinds closed and door more than likely locked. 836 spared the office a glance, sneering at 001.

 

“One does not put up with Senior Agent Zeros. Senior Agent Zeros puts up with you.”

 

836 paused, about to walk away before quickly adding more to his argument. 

 

“You have not been in this Sector for a very long time, Senior Agent Double-01, so I would not expect you to see it, but his worth is there. I have nearly given my life for that man several times…. I would do it all over again without hesitation. Now if you will excuse me, I have to review your Intel.”

 

As 836 marched off towards the break room to do as promised, he grabbed a coffee, pouring nearly half the container of creamer into his mug.

 

Putting together the evidence would have gone much smoother if his mind hadn’t been lingering on other things. He had missed something. What was 001’s problem with 000? Was 000 okay? Was he sick? When did he wreck? What did he wreck? Last 836 checked, 000 didn’t have a car and he’d said he needed to take his motorbike to the shop. 

 

‘Unless 000 had forgotten to do so… He does have terrible memory. Laziness? Perhaps a combination of both.’

 

He bounced his knee in thought, hands and eyes on auto-pilot. With his mind running a mile a minute, he never noticed small, ghostly man slip by and pour him more coffee with less creamer than he liked, scrunching his nose when it suddenly became bitter and adding the creamer pouches he didn’t know he’d grabbed. 

 

…[Oct. 22nd, 1996, 12:37CKT]...

 

Morning turned to noon in a millisecond to the exhausted senior agent dozing off in his chair. He awoke with a jolt to the sound of dojo music, looking around with drowsy eyes. He groaned as he sat up, a large brown detective’s coat flopping to his lap. 000 looked down at the coat, a deep cherry tint in his face paired with a pout. He couldn’t help but take part of it between two fingers and rubbing the fabric, comforted. A second ring of his phone snapped him back into reality, grunting anxiously as he yanked open his drawers in search of his phone until he found it with his other carry Items. He poked at his head wounds, flinching at the pain and disappointedly glaring at his messy desk as he put his phone to his ear.

 

He grumbled to himself as he answered the phone, “I need to organize my drawers..- Mr. Banks speaking, Who’s this?”

 

“You know who it is, Nanu, don’t act.”

 

Sighing, 000 stood up and started limping towards the outdoor break area, grabbing 836’s coat. 

 

“I have to answer personal calls like that. Agent family privacy protocol.” 

 

He knocked on his partners office door before entering as usual and slipped his hand through a small crack in the door, hanging 836’s coat on it’s usual hanger before leaving again. 836 was pinning new evidence and leads to his board, coffee in hand. Neither men had slept well, it seemed. They exchanged tired waves through the window while 000 passed by, 836 smiling warmly like a sunny day despite the bags under his eyes. It took everything in 000 not to make a snickering comment about it while on the phone with his friend, especially when his cheeks felt so warm with 836’s grin fresh in his mind. It was almost enough to distract him from his leg. Almost.

 

“Nanu Lui Banks heeding rules? Tapu Koko must have tackled me too hard this morning during training!” 

 

A bellowing laugh echoed from the other end of the line and 000 couldn’t help but give a smirk. 

 

“Yeah, Hahaha, laugh all ya want. After the hostage situation The Glittering caused…”

 

“...You’d like to avoid giving listeners any targets.. Yes, I understand. I appreciate that you think it necessary to include me.”

 

“Blood means nothin’. You’re family, Mr. Island King. Deal with it.”

 

He heard Hala give a half-hearted laugh to his teasing, but he knew there was a reason for his call. He dreaded the reason. 

 

“Why ya callin’?...”

 

000 could feel the smile fade, sitting on the border half-wall that lined the outdoor area to get off his wounded limb. He waited, each moment he could hear his own heartbeat getting louder and prayed to Bulu Hala couldn’t.

 

Then, Hala said exactly what he’d expected to hear.

 

“He’s dead, Nanu.. He passed away from a fever shortly after your call with the nurses ended at 2:04..”

 

If Hala had more to say, 000 wasn’t willing to listen. He’d hung up after he realized that it wasn’t rain falling on his trousers, but tears. 000 knew it was coming, had been bracing for it since he heard about the hospitalization, but it still hurt. No amount of mental preparation would ease what felt like a shotgun to the chest. After that, the crash earlier that morning didn’t seem to matter. It couldn’t compete with what his heart felt, now.

 

000 sat ducked between the wall and decorative shrubs with his arms around his stomach, waiting for the pain to stop enough for him to move. His eyes burned by the time he’d stopped crying, needing to feel his way to the washroom. 

  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 22nd, 1996, 13:10CKT]...

 

836 had moved from the break room, to his office so he could string all the information and back for a quick review on final drafted notes he could give to his partner while calling various hotels. It was after writing the locations that confirmed his inquiries that 836 looked up towards the door, wondering where his partner had gone. 

 

“This is all wrong.. Zeros would usually be here kicking the vending machine for his soda by now. Where is he?” 

 

The dark haired Senior Agent got up to look out the door, checking up and down the hall when he spotted 000 coming out of the restroom near the outdoor area. 

 

‘odd… he does not usually go outside unless to smoke and he used his last one this morning. Maybe still in pain? The limp has worsened.. Or maybe worried about the case?’ 

 

“Hello, Zeros! I have new information on Lady Wine!”

 

“Good.”

 

Regardless, 836 went back to his seat, keeping his eyes on the door for when 000 came in. When he did, it didn’t take but a moment to see he was less okay than before. His eyes were puffy, face clearly having been washed. 

 

“Whatcha got?”

 

“Have you been crying, Zeros?”

 

The older Agent went deathly silent, his head down towards the notes in his partner's hands but his eyes stared 836 down with intent to put him on the wrong end of a murder mystery. 836 gave a whistle raised his brows, looking back to the notes and handed them to 000. 

 

‘Moody..’

 

“.. Sooo. I have new Intel on her recent visits! Most of the hotels Double-01 gave me have proven helpful, giving us the logs that include her name check ins and out along with the security tapes. I went through the security footage and created a photo image of her from what it showed me. She wears a deep wine red dancing dress with a cut down the side, black stiletto heels and her hair is usually down since she used one of her hair accessories as a weapon in her most recent murder.”

 

“How the fuck does she get away with all this without anyone noticing?”

 

“It is not uncommon attire in Kalos. Many people party, go out late at night and wear fancy clothes. She also has a gun.”

 

“Doesn’t explain enough. Either the Local PD are shit at their jobs or she has feet of steel.”

 

“... Pardon?”

 

“Ya ever worn stilettos?”

 

“I have not.”

 

000 froze, twitching his nose and biting his gum nervously. He cleared his throat and looked away when he saw 836 still staring at him with questions flickering in his eyes. This lasted for a good minute.

 

“.. Is there something you would like to tell me, S-”

 

“I was drunk and lost a bet to a coworker, alright!” 

 

836 looked at 000 with concern, seeing the red on his partner's face. 000 challenged 836’s concern with a raised eyebrow, an intense staring contest ensuing, giving 000’s cheeks the chance to cool. This proceed for what felt like hours, both Senior Agents fighting the temptation to get lost in the others eyes. It was 000 who broke the silence finally, smirking with his chin resting on one hand.

 

“Ya gonna tell me the rest of what you found or are we goin’ to continue havin’ intense eye sex?” 

 

Of course, 000 followed up such a remark by making his brows bounce. 836’s face burned, fuming and sputtering incoherent curses while 000 grabbed 836’s coffee mug and stood, looking at the notes with a smug grin plastered on his features. 

 

“You said ya had more than this, Eight-36.”

 

836 snorted, pouting and standing to lead 000 to his office stringboard, allowing 000 to grab his arm so he could keep up. He tried not to think about it. Out of courtesy, he slowed to a more manageable pace.

 

“Y-Yes, I do. I narrowed down her next targets. There are plenty of people that fit her targeting profile, but it seems she is trying to wipe out a certain area. The past 5 murders have been in one district and the last person who fits her targeting description is Emilie Moriah. She lives just 2 houses down from the house that Lady Wines mother was killed in. Lady Wine has become predictable.”

 

The taller agent pulled down a map, pointing to a highlighted district in East Kalos.

 

“Huh. So she’s finally made a mistake..”

 

“On the contrary, my dear Zeros! She has made several! A-”

 

“ZEROS, EIGHT-36!”

 

Both men snapped their heads to the door, startled as a fellow Senior Agent leaned in. 000 immediately shuffled towards him.

 

“What’s got ya wired, 71UM?”

 

“There was a few bodies found in the basement of a recently burned home. Lady Wine’s struck again.”

 

“A few?! Why were there more than one? and this early after her last murder?” 836 asked, determined.

 

000 looked back at his partner swiftly, shoving 71UM out of the door. “You’re not gonna find out from him, so grab your shit and ask questions when you get there-” 

 

He then grabbed 836’s coat from it’s hanger and tossed it to him on his way to his own office, 836 fumbling to catch it while he got out his keys. 000 burst through the door of his office, put down the coffee and started dialing a number on his office phone. When he saw 836 grabbing things from his locker just outside his door, he yelled for him go on ahead.

 

“You go on ahead, I’ll order Local PD to block it off.”

 

“On it!”

 

007 came out of his office and called to the rest of the Sector. “Alright! I need everyone present on standby. Lady Wine made a move early and there are multiple victims this time-”

 

As the Chief did his emergency briefing, 000 finished the call with Local Kalosian Authorities, filed through all his drawers to grab his tools. He took a sip of 836’s coffee, only to immediately regret it and spit it out, coughing and gagging when he wiped his mouth. “Fuck!”

 

Instead of dwelling on the concerning amount of creamer he just consumed with one swallow of 836’s coffee, he stumbled out the door and hopped on his motorbike to the crime scene.


	3. Tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very tempted to add some more angst, but I was convinced to save it for later. Also, Nanu is a cuddle-bug and can purr and no one can convince me otherwise. Anyways, here's chapter 3!!!! o0o

…[Oct. 22nd, 1996, 15:52CKT]...

 

000 pulled in to nearly half the block tapped off. Burned homes with Local PD officers searching them, seemingly perplexed, while the residents from the other homes cried at the caution lines. 000 could already tell why, seeing bodies, blood and brain matter on the asphalt, one body without a head lying next to a crowbar, another around a yard away with a shotgun wound in the torso.

 

000 parked beside the only other vehicle he recognized, turning off his red and blue flashing lights and hopped off. The Alolan agent went under the caution line in front of him, observing the scene before hobbling quickly towards the primary house in question without much external reaction. It made his blood boil, chest tighten and stomach churn, yes, but it wouldn’t solve their murders dwelling on it. It wouldn’t bring those that loved them peace..

 

Most of the officers around didn’t seem to care that he was there, but one ballsy Rookie tried to stop him as he walked onto the scorched soil leading up to their primary victims home. He scrunched his nose in disgust at the scent of gasoline and seared human flesh, grunting in disgust.

 

“Excuse me, Sir! You can’t-“

 

The young officer couldn’t even get through the rest of his sentence, 000 shoving his badge in his face without missing a beat, stepping onto the porch. When the Rookie yelled for him to come back, the Senior Agent gave him the bird, slipping on his plastic gloves as he limped through the threshold.

 

“Eights?”

 

“Basement!”

 

“Figures..”

 

Inwardly groaning, 000 made his way down to find a pile of mostly burned corpses, luckily still resembling humans. Like a hammer, the smell invaded his senses, nearly knocking him to the floor. He was elated he hadn’t eaten lunch but was absolutely regretting breakfast. 836 was already photographing and labelling evidence. 

 

“Did ya take any samples of the remains?”

 

836 didn’t bother looking at him, busying himself with photographing a tuft of burnt red hair caught in a beam above the stairs, his voice oozing discomfort.

 

“Ah.. no… I um. I have decided to leave that to you.”

 

“Gee, Thanks,” 000 paused, adding as he pulled out his forensic kit, “Asshole.”

 

“I elect to ignore that.”

 

000 rolled his eyes, but put on a medical mask, smirked at his partner and began taking samples of each individual. 

 

Over the next five hours, they poured over the basement; 000 taking samples of anything he could, picking up fingerprints when found, etc. 836 took photographs, laid markers and put viable evidence in bags. The next three hours were spent on the rest of the home before they moved to the yard and then the street.

 

Both men glanced at each other, sharing the same emotions at different intensities and concealment. 836 was horrified; scared even, and his trembling hands as he held the camera to his face paired with the lip biting and the tears that threatened showed it. 000 felt the fury and fear from when he first arrived rise back to his surface, clenching his jaw as he silently began taking fingerprints from the bodies and swabbing the crowbar. 836 broke his silence once the last photo was taken three hours later, eyes red from fighting tears.

 

“I.. am sorry, Zeros..”

 

000 didn’t respond. He was angry, getting worse the longer they stayed, and the last person he wanted to take his anger out on was his partner. 000 loaded up what he’d gathered in 836’s car compartment, where they always stored their findings. He gave the officer closest to them orders to have the bodies delivered to their morgue.

 

He hopped on his bike again, tired and emotional while 836 loaded up his car with the remaining evidence. 000 was about to take off when 836 yanked something off his bike from behind him. 000 naturally turned to glare at him, only to find a paper being shoved in his face. Taking it, he looked it over, realizing it was the bill from the mechanic he had fix his bike while at the office earlier. They’d even delivered it to his workplace, probably at the request of his usual breakfast spot given the signature on the receipt attached. A little reminder that not everyone in the world is a monster.

 

Sighing through his nose, 000 stuffed it in a coat pocket, not looking at his partner, but it wasn’t like he needed to. 836 could see the flash of gratefulness in his eyes. That was enough for him. They nodded to one another before they took off towards the office again. It took everything in them to resist crying while driving.

  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 23rd, 1996, 05:23CKT]...

 

If 000 could sleep, he’d have let 836 put the evidence away by himself and gone to his apartment. Unluckily for him, today's events left him with upsetting emotions he didn’t know how to handle. If he went home now, he wasn’t sure he’d remain sane. If ‘sane’ is a word anyone would use to describe an Interpol agent they knew.

 

Nevertheless, he went right to work running the fingerprints and blood for matches, identified the bodies of the two siblings in the street, scanned the scorched hairs he’d removed from the stairways, then moved on to testing and examining the remains, sending all new information to 836. 

 

836 was in the room next door, reconstructing the events of the crime with holograms. Each new piece of information 000 sent frustrated him, leaving him to redo the entire thing. Perhaps it was fatigue or nerves, but his brain wasn’t making any sense of this being linked to Lady Wine and yet it matched nearly every pattern.

 

Every pattern except the number, types of victims and how they were killed. It was new variables adding to the normal pattern. 

 

“Too  _ many _ , too  _ soon _ ..”

 

3 adults ranging from their 30’s to mid 50’s, all murdered with her Golok. The gun was found discarded behind damaged mailboxes on the first floor, unloaded. A young newlywed couple, deaths caused by wire asphyxiation and a lethal blow to the head. A string of barbed wire had been moved from its spot hanging in the basement to the trash and unidentifiable waste in the hallway floor. The edge of a metal countertop close to the bottom of the stairs was bloodied. The target victim was killed in classic ‘Lady Wine’ fashion, sloppier than usual. A teenage boy, a young girl, siblings killed by shotgun wounds.

 

A shotgun locker was hanging on the wall above a newspaper-covered sofa, glass broken and weapon missing. It wasn’t recovered from the crime scene.

  
  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 23rd, 1996, 22:04CKT]...

 

The day ended with neither of them leaving their posts for more than a bathroom break. 007 took notice that they’d never clocked out, rubbing his temples before sending a purple-haired young lady down to their floor. She made her way down with a clear motive, lavender eyes allowing no leeway for discussion.

 

A knock on the door didn’t get the crimson-eyed Senior Agent’s attention. She knew he was hardest to convince; from stress or age however, she didn’t know.

 

Knocking on the CSR made the tall, dark-haired man inside jump. It was enough to make her gaze soften, if only for a moment before she entered.

 

“Ah! Anabel!”

 

“I have an agent name, Mr. Eights. I would prefer you use it when we’re working.” She murmured, her voice smooth, but cutting.

 

It made him flinch.

 

“You should be at your hotel, sleeping. It’s 22:10.”

 

836 tried to revert the conversation, “I should be the one scolding you for staying up so late, young lady.”

 

Anabel’s tone ran cold.

 

“Not until you sign my adoption papers, Sir. I may be a teenager, but as far as I’m concerned, I have free will since I have no parent to watch me.”

 

He shut his mouth. He wanted to adopt her with 000, but decided not to due to financial and job reasons. He couldn’t provide for her a life she deserved, guarantee her safety, nor guarantee that he wouldn’t return at the end of the day in a casket. It didn’t help that she was a faller.

 

She deserved better. And neither 000 nor 836 could give that to her, regardless if they left Interpol or not. It infuriated him. 007 hated it too, so he’d set her up to be adopted with the local agency in hopes she’d get out of here. So far, no eligible parents have shown interest...

 

000 took the entire faller ordeal the hardest and understandably so. 836 remembered vividly the look of horror and how quickly it shifted to anger. He remembered 000 had to be restrained since talking and distracting had failed, otherwise, the office would have been destroyed. That was the most violent outburst he’d ever seen from 000. The  _ only _ violent outburst he’d ever seen 000 have directed towards someone that wasn’t a criminal. 007 handled it with a sense of care. 

 

He sighed, “You were sent by the Chief?”

 

“Yes. He knows you didn’t clock out yesterday. You’ve been up far too long, Mr. Eights.. Please, go rest.”

 

“..... Fine.. but I will be here early tomorrow!”

 

Tomorrow was the start of a short holiday.

 

“Of course, Mr. Eights. Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight, Anabel.”

 

“F113R, Mr. Eights.”

 

836 froze, hair standing on edge. He, along with 000,  _ refused _ to use her ‘Agent’ codename for a reason. She wore it like a  _ badge _ .

 

A badge she didn’t know the origin of.

 

“Y… Yes.. Goodnight.”

 

As soon as everything was shut down, he sped off towards the elevator and then towards the Chief's office, only to find it empty.

 

“Zeros is locking up then… it really is too late.”

 

Rubbing at his face, 836 groaned, getting his things and going to his hotel. He flopped into the cheap room and fell into bed, not bothering to remove his clothing. T-Posed above the covers, the middle-aged man's snores bellowed from the pillow his face was buried in.

  
  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 23rd, 1996, 22:21CKT]...

 

Anabel waited patiently for 836 to drive off, watching the security cameras on the phone IPD had given her before making her way back to 000.

 

‘Now for the  _ stubborn _ one..’

 

She made her way to his door, not bothering to knock this time and waltzed in, standing around 5 feet off. She patiently awaited his attention, blankly watching him peer into the microscope. He already knew she was there, just didn’t care since she was in his peripheral.  _ and safe _ .

 

“If ya came to convince me to go home, I’m not goin’ ‘til we have the crime scene reconstructed.”

 

“I’d advise that you go home, Mr. Zeros. Eight-“

 

“Eight-36 went to his hotel when you asked him to, yes, I know. There’s a routine and you’re not the first to perform it.”

 

“F113R, Mr. Zeros. And I’m not ‘performing’, I’m  _ enforcing _ . Enforcing the-“

 

“The Tapu-damned curfew that the Chief put in place so me and Senior Agent 836 wouldn’t burnout. I Know.”

 

He grits his teeth, standing up and grabbing files.

 

“I also don’t care. Sleeping is the last thing I want to do… and the last thing I need,  _ Anabel _ .”

 

000 gestured to the room next door, taking note of her cheek. She was biting it in frustration. 

 

“Eights didn’t manage to do much in the reconstruction room, did he?”

 

Anabel was silent. Fuming.

 

000 took that as a ‘no’, marching his way past her to the reconstruction room. She followed furiously, lecturing him. He chose to look at the files to see what had been done. Nothing, to his surprise. Not even the layout had been set up. 

 

“Zeros, you need to go home and relax, if only until your usual time aft-”

 

“He really didn’t do shit with the CSR builder, did he? Damn fools’ nerves must’ve been shot since the crime scene visit..”

 

Anabel raised her voice, having had enough of being interrupted and ignored. 

 

“Are you going to interrupt me every time I speak or will you actually listen to reason for once?! I’m tired, I’m hungry and I  _ want to go home _ !”

 

The sudden loudness made 000 jolt, though he only looked up at her with his eyes, not having that attitude. 

 

“Then why are you still here?.. Nothin’s keepin’ you. Ya already know tryin’ to make me go home is pointless, so leave.”

 

“I was given orders-”

 

“The Chief knows I don’t go home for three days after a rough crime scene investigati-”

 

“STOP INTERRUPTING ME.”

 

“I will when ya stop actin’ too big for your britches. You’re still a trainee. Regardless of your training under the Chief, that doesn’t give you any authority. Especially not over us Senior Agents.”

 

“Why do you all get treated so differently?!..”

 

“We’ve been in the field for over 20+ years, dealing with the worst of the worst and it only ever goes downhill ‘cause crime-solving is a death-riddled, bloody wonderland rabbit-hole  _ trap _ . We’ve seen enough shit and been injured enough to last us multiple lifetimes. We’ve lost enough partners. Enough friends. Enough family. Pair that with what comes with old age and now we require mission monitoring ‘cause we’re willing to go on missions we know deep down we can’t handle ‘cause we just don't give a shit about ourselves anymore. What reason do we have to take orders from a trainee?!”

 

In an instant, he regretted saying so much. Or anything at all. It was unnecessary of him. Unfair. With a shaking breath, he turned his attention to the screen and sat down, setting all the evidence in their place, guilt clouding his mind. 

 

There was silence for several minutes until Anabel took a seat beside 000, deciding to hide her face in 000’s arm. 000 stiffened in discomfort with the abrupt contact, letting his hands drop from the screen to the table in front of him. He sat there with her against him, letting her cry for a while, thinking and filled with self-loathing.

 

“Zeros… I’m sorry..”

 

000 shook his head, “Don’t be, Kid. I’m the one who needs to apologize. None of what I’ve dealt with is a burden you should have to shoulder and just ‘cause I’m old and tired doesn’t mean I get to be a dick. Beside’s, bein’ a trainee isn’t easy either…. I’m sorry, kiddo..”

 

He pats her hand, grabbing out his phone and pulling up a list of places that delivered.

 

“Tell ya what... How ‘bout I order us some food and we work on reconstructing this crime scene together?”

 

“You mean you’ll actually teach me how to reconstruct a crime scene?”

 

“Sure. Might as well teach ya somethin’. Somethin’ useful, at least. I’m not goin’ home any time soon and I’m guessin’ you won’t leave unless I do, right?”

 

“I was given orders to stay until you went home.”

 

“Figures.”

 

“You don’t have to buy me food, though, Mr. Zeros-“

 

“I’m not.”

 

The Senior Agent smiled tiredly as he began making their order. Anabel’s teary eyes widened in surprise and slight panic.

 

“What?! How are you gonna pay for it, then?!” 

 

“Relax, kid, I’m a cop.”

 

She eyed him suspiciously. He merely flashed her a card she had only seen once and snorted.

 

“An IPD HQ company credit card..”

 

“HQ won’t cover my piled-up medical bills from the injuries I got on the job. The least they can do is buy me dinner every once in a while to make up for it.”

 

“That’s still stealing.”

 

“Never said I was a good cop.”

 

000 let out a laugh when he looked at her face only to see typical teenage annoyance written all over it. While they waited for the food to arrive, 000 showed Anabel how to put together a scene and plug in the evidence. He took over mapping out the movements of each individual involved when the food arrived and let her watch while she ate. Halfway through, she made him stop so he could eat, the two sharing their food since it was a new take-out place for both of them. Well, it was more so the two stealing from each other's plates and trying to be sneaky about it, but they were never serious about taking anything back. He teased her here and there and she groaned at his dad jokes, even exclaiming that his were somehow worse than 836’s. 

 

The older Agent was just starting a new bowl of dumplings when the file was finally finished. Setting down his chopsticks momentarily, he carefully clicked ‘save’ and started to upload the reconstructed crime scene to the casefile. He groaned in annoyance and tiredness through the mouthful of dough. 8.  _ Hours _ . It would take to upload. There was no way he could go home and leave it unattended.

 

It wasn’t like he could move anyways, even if he wanted to. Turning his head, Anabel had hers resting against his arm. He sighed through his nose, slightly annoyed. He knew his arm wasn’t exactly a comfortable pillow. He didn’t move her, though. He didn’t want to wake her.

 

It was difficult to pick up his chopsticks again to continue eating his dinner. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he’d been until Anabel told him he looked thin. Not that he was self-conscious of his weight, but ‘thin’ had never been used in a good connotation towards him. His own mother insisted he needed to eat more. She was right, because he did. Clearly. 000 hadn’t eaten since early morning two days ago.

 

After he finished his dumplings, he set the bowl down, having his fill and shifted so he could rest his cheek against his hand, trying not to wake the kid on his other arm. All that was left to do was wait for the file to upload. And wait he did.

  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 24th, 1996, 03:01CKT]...

 

Despite getting the email that it was a holiday, 836 had intended to come into work anyway so he could pick up where he’d left off that night. Upon checking the doors, he was surprised to see that they were open still. Panic flooded his veins and he quickly put his lockpick away so he could get out his gun. He kept it at his side, exploring the office for any signs of life, his heart dropping at the sight of 000s locker still being closed. Peeking through the holes, he saw his partners things still inside and he whirled around. 

 

The detective almost yelled for his partner, but his voice had caught in his throat. What if he was hurt? What if the person who hurt him was still inside? Admittedly, he hadn’t slept long when he’d returned to his hotel. Turns out, they require nightly payments. Nightly payments they had stripped him of without his permission until they couldn’t anymore and thusly kicked him out. His brain was spinning painfully with all the possible scenarios of why 000s would still be in the office. 

 

Then he saw Anabel’s things still on her desk.

 

836 clenched his jaw and filled stared daggers at her desk as he removed the safety lock on his firearm. He prayed that nothing happened to either of them. For the sake of whoever his sleep-deprived mind believed was intruding.

 

Moving throughout the lower floors of the Police Department, he was starting to think the worst of the worst had happened, until he entered the CSR room and saw two familiar heads of hair. 836 looked around briefly, walking into the room and rounding the desk to see what exactly had happened to them only to deflate, putting away his gun, exhausted and bemused. 

 

000 had lost a fight.

 

With  _ sleep _ and was drooling on the desk in front of him, cheek squished against an empty bowl, one arm draped haphazardly over his own neck. Anabel had collapsed into him, her head still against his other arm, hugging it like a teddy bear. 

 

He blinked, too tired to react and instead took to cleaning up the food and dishes. Once that was done, he checked what they had been doing on the CSR Computer. He wasn’t a fan of what he saw. How could he have been so careless that 000 and Anabel had to stay up all night picking up his slack? He went upstairs and grabbed both Agent’s things, putting them in the trunk.

 

When 836 came back, he logged 000 out of the computer and turned it off, then took off his coat, wrapping it around Anabel. As careful as he could, he picked her up and carried her to his car, sitting her in the passenger seat and buckling her in before going back to retrieve 000. 

 

000 didn’t even grumble in his sleep when 836 went to pick him up, heavy and loose. He was almost tempted to put him back down and check for a pulse. 

 

Carrying a deadweight partner through a multilevel underground station building to a car regardless of elevators put a great deal of strain on his back. 000 wasn’t necessarily heavy, 836 was just... getting older. Carrying anyone was growing to be a daunting task.

 

He sat 000 in the back seat, in the middle of buckling him in when the Alolan slid over onto his side, 836 losing his grip on the belt. Deciding he was too tired to try again, he let him be, checked on Anabel and shut their doors, then locked up the station. From there, it was off to Anabel’s apartment. As much as he didn’t want to wake her up, he had to when they’d pulled into the driveway. 

 

“Anabel..”

 

She grunted and shifted, to which he lightly tapped her shoulder and moved some hair out of her face. He spoke gently to her.

 

“Anabel, we are at your apartment.. Do you want me to help you inside?”

 

She blinked awake and looked to him sleepily.

 

“.... Wha?..”

 

He sighed softly, but kept his voice low and pointed to the passenger window. 

 

“I took you home, hun.”

 

“Oh.. mmkay.” 

 

The trainee shrugged drowsily out of his coat, unbuckling and opened the door. 836 double-checked that she was okay to go in on her own while popping the trunk so she could get her things. 

 

“Do you want me to help?”

 

Anabel sleepily shook her head, grabbed her bag, then flopped into his chest tiredly. He kissed her head briefly, giving her a one-armed hug as he closed the trunk before sending her off. 

 

“Okay, go on. Go to bed. You look like Zeros when he wakes up from a decent sleep.”

 

That earned a tired giggle from her, “...Goodnight dads..”

 

836 had turned to get in the car again when his ears registered what she’d said and had to take a minute to decide if it was his imagination or not. Unable to tell, he looked up to ask her, but she was already in her apartment, closing her door. 

 

He decided then that he was very tired and needed to get to 000s’ apartment. Whether or not he’d stay with him through the rest of the holiday was another thing. 

  
  
  
  
  


…[Oct. 24th, 1996, 05:57CKT]...

 

Now he was really tired. 836 was tempted to just get 000, put him to bed and pass out in the car. He didn’t. 

 

Instead, he grabbed 000s’ things and his coat, taking them upstairs, tossing them on the sofa and then stealing a moment to gaze at around. It was weird wandering the apartment he used to share with 000 and see it now. It was nearly barren. Void of decoration, nothing past the basic necessities. it felt lifeless. 

 

On his way back out to retrieve his partner a second time, he found a light green letter on the entryway rug. Picking it up, he saw it was for ‘Nanu Lui Banks’. This.. couldn’t be for 000, right? 000 had a real name, surely, and he knew he was from Alola, but light green envelopes meant something bad happened to a family member. More specifically, the recipient’s child or children. 000 didn’t have children.

 

technically. 

 

and anymore... 

 

With some struggle, 836 pulled himself from the kneeling position he didn’t remember getting into, set the envelope aside and went back to the car. 

 

000 was heavier than before. Maybe it was because he was so worn out. Maybe it was because 000 made things more difficult by trying to cuddle him the entire walk up the stairs. Maybe it was a combination of the two.

 

Getting in the door, he saw the little table near it in the entry hallway and immediately kicked himself. He carefully shifted 000 so he could have a free hand to rub a painstakingly gentle thumb over a silver star-shaped urn, ‘A star is a flower just dancing in heaven’ in midnight blue engravings always facing the door.

 

“I… did not say hello when I first walked in.. I am _ so  _ **_sorry_ ** .”

 

836’s voice hitched, catching in his throat when he tried to say a name. It still hurt. Everything still hurts. He let his hand fall from the urn, shuffling to 000s bed and made an attempt to be gentle in laying him into it. 

 

He was so exhausted that he flopped instead, landing on top of his partner. 000 rolled them over, his arms wrapped tightly around 836 and giving him no room to try and leave. 

 

Accepting his fate without an ounce of fuss, 836 struggled with the covers, managing to get into them. It was only then that he cuddled 000 back, curling up to him despite being the larger of the two and nuzzling sleepily into 000s’ neck. 

 

In an instant, 000s’ quiet, wheezing snores turned into a soft, low-pitched rumble, rattling soothingly from his chest against 836. It was more than enough to lull 836 into a deep slumber filled with warm, happy dreams. Something neither agent had often.

 

000 smiled in his sleep, faintly, but genuine and continued to purr, sleep and cuddle the day away with 836.


End file.
